Old Town Comics
by panictowel
Summary: AU MCR, frerard: After deciding to leave his life as a prostitute behind, Frank finds a job at Mikey's comic store where he meets Gerard. Will he let the artist into his life and can he manage to escape certain people of his past?
1. Chapter 1: Breathe Again

**A/N:** harrr finally i manage to post the first chapter of one of the many other stories i'm working on. i hope you like it. should you find any mistakes, feel free to point them out.  
(document manager editing makes me go insane. sorry for the weird layout. this simply does not work and i don't know why.)

**Disclaimer:** it's _fan fiction_. this one is based on the members of MCR, parts of The Used, FOB and TBS.

**Beta:** the lovely _xxliar_ from – thank you!

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**Chapter 01 – Breathe Again**

He flinched when the cloth touched the bruised and broken skin, washing the dried blood away as gently as he could. He blinked away the tears that stung in his eyes due to the pain.

He never cried, because of _them_; they were not worth it and he never cried in self pity. Tears only broke through when he was in real physical pain, but even then he tried to stop them from falling. He would not allow himself to get weak, to get vulnerable, to lose it.

Most of all, he was afraid that, if he started, he wouldn't be able to stop.

Frank breathed out a shaken laugh, ready to punch the wall next to him.

He met his own emotionless eyes in the mirror and sunk the washcloth into the sink, rinsing the blood and dirt from it, watching the water get duller.

One eye was nastily bruised; a short cut on the cheekbone right under it had finally stopped bleeding. His nose was only slightly red, the blood already washed away, and if you didn't know, you couldn't tell it had been hit just an hour ago.

His lip was quite the opposite. It had burst open to the left, just were the fist had slammed against it, letting him taste his own blood for the hundredth time simply because he had refused to let the man fuck him. The deal had been a blowjob, nothing more. He would have gone further, no doubt, but didn't have any condoms, _why the fuck didn't he have any with him_, which didn't concern the man as much as it did him, because after beating him up, he just used Frank, who bit down his screams and tears and pain _and pleads_, not wanting to please the bastard in any way.

He had left him - bleeding, aching but still breathing - on the floor. It had happened before and it would happen again; risk of the business. One must apparently have some kind of death wish lingering inside somewhere if he didn't get freaked out by thinking that he might have caught some STD or HIV when bastards like the man from tonight raped him. Too used to the fear maybe, and this didn't make it any better.

Frank hissed, when he cleaned his lip and chin, finally getting rid of all dried blood on his skin and then turned around to sit down in the shower. He held his breath when his bottom touched the floor, slipping a hand above himself to turn up for the water. He let the hot streams fall down on him, burning away the smell of the night and of his job. He rested his elbows on his knees, which he pulled up to his chest and leaned his forehead on his arms, blinking into the darkness of his little selfmade cave.

"Bullshit." _Complete and utter bullshit. All of it._ He frowned. Why did he still put up with this then? The money wasn't worth all the pain and risk. He was miserable and didn't allow himself to flow in self pity because he could just fucking change his situation if he wanted to.

And he wanted to.

He sighed when he realized he couldn't just go out and search for a job the next day. His face didn't look very appealing and he had to make a good impression if he wanted a job. He needed ajob.

Maybe in the beginning it was awesome to not have to get up in the mornings and work until early evening, still earning a hell of a lot of money, but he had always felt like shit after each 'customer' and the 'customers' got dirtier, nastier and more violent with each year. Or did he get more careless? More desperate for money, for _jobs_.

He had been to the hospital three times in the last two months already to check himself for any diseases after he had been raped. They had always been nice to him, the nurses, and the doctor. She had always tried to speak him out of it, offering him a job in the canteen of the hospital where she worked instead, but he refused every time. He was too proud.

What was there to be proud of?

He leaned his head back on the wall and licked some blood away from the cut that had burst open again. Maybe when he 'visited' her next time, which was obviously necessary again, he could get over his issues and ask her if he still could get the job. She would surely be proud of him for finally giving up on blowing strangers and having men fuck him for money.

But not tonight. He needed to rest. He needed sleep.

"Frank!"

…

"Frank, open the door!"

…

"Frank, are you alright?"

…

"Frank, open up or I'm gonna…"

Frank stumbled from the warmth of his bed to the door, unlocking it and frowning when he blinked the sleep away and felt the stinging pain around his eye.

"Or you gonna do what? Push it open? As if you have the muscles to do that, Quinn."

"Oh shit, what the hell happened?" Quinn looked painfully, but not too surprised at Frank's face. He followed Frank's arm gesture to get his ass inside already. He didn't need his neighbors to complain about him, getting him kicked out of his apartment. Shitty as it was, it was his.

He locked the door again and flicked on the small table lamp, shutting off the big one that Quinn had flicked on when he entered and slumped down on his bed.

"Move." Frank waved for Quinn to move to the side so he could get under the covers again. He finally managed to do so, but only for a second before Quinn pulled the sheets down to his hips again, hovering over him and staring down at his naked torso.

"Man, you got some nasty bruises this time."

"Why don't you just kiss them alright and we all can get back to sleep?" Frank had his eyes closed and tried to fall asleep, despise the fact that Quinn was leaning over him and examining his body. The worst thing was the sheets were gone. He was starting to freeze.

"Did you at least get…"

"No."

"Oh… That's alright."

"No, it's not fucking alright!" Frank sat up abruptly, forcing Quinn to back away, sitting down on his ass again and looking knowingly at Frank.

"You got raped."

"I hate this place! I'm not gonna do it again!"

"We're going to see Moira."

"I was lying there and I fucking wished I…" Frank stopped, breathing heavily due to his anger and let his eyes flicker down to the sheets.

"What?"

"Nothing." Frank shook his head and lay back down. Quinn knew better than to ask again. Instead he shifted and lay down next to Frank, being careful not to hurt him.

"I'm gonna go see Moira in a few days and ask her for the fucking job in the canteen instead," Frank said quietly, looking up at the ceiling. He hoped he wouldn't have to see it anymore.

"Tell me when and I'm coming with you."

"Switch off the light," Frank said, turning on his side and wincing at the pain coming from his ribcage when he heard Quinn getting up again and walking over to the table. He let the room fall into darkness again before turning back to crawl into the bed. Frank had already lifted the sheets for him to get under. Ten minutes later he was asleep and dreamt about some guy chasing him through the city with a shiny knife in one hand.

Moira wasn't there this time. And Frank let a young male doctor with arrogant eyebrows treat him like the cheap and dirty prostitute he was.

_Was._

He was there alone, having left Quinn asleep, as he hadn't been up for company. Frank had gotten reassurance that his rib wasn't cracked_, it still hurt enough though_, and while they ran the usual tests, the doctor told him that he had to wait a few weeks if he wanted a clear result. As if he didn't know already. But he nodded and at least left with the thought that he might have been a lucky fucker this time concerning any STD. Itching nuisances, some of them. Thinking back to the man that had raped him two days ago, he thought he might relax concerning anything though... he knew them by now. Of course, one could never be too sure, but the man didn't seem like a threat. Then again – he had raped him, right? So yeah, Frank would come back.

But of course he never got around to asking for the job either. The doctor had already looked at him with so much disgust that Frank bit back any comments or questions; he might get laughed at additionally. He was definitely not up for being treated like a fucking joke.

An hour later, he was walking with his hands buried deep in the pockets of his ripped jeans, head and shoulders hanging down, eyes on the street in front of him, when he caught sight of something in the corner of his eyes.

'Help wanted.' He stopped, wide eyed, staring at the sign for another moment before finally looking up to see what kind of shop he was standing in front of. Old Town Comics.

A comic store. Not too big, but not cramped either. He had been there before plenty of times; the owner was some crazy thin kid with geeky glasses if he remembered correctly. And the clumsiest person he had ever met was also working there; last time Frank had visited, he'd almost knocked both himself and a shelf over but luckily had jumped to the side just in time.

At least they had always been friendly and didn't say anything when he had left after an hour of reading and not buying anything. Quite the opposite; the owner seemed to send him a cheery smile even though he recognized him every time Frank turned, not-buying anything.

Frank bit his lip - he couldn't let this chance slip – so he took a breath and pushed the door open.

Inside he licked his dry lips and looked around the store. Empty. Huh. Interesting. Frank bit the inside of his cheek nervously and put his hands in his pockets, strolling to a shelf and glancing at the covers, waiting patiently for someone to turn up.

No one came.

For some reason he was thankful for the nonexistence of the owner at that very moment, as he felt himself becoming more nervous with the second. He nibbled on his lip ring, cursing under his breath for thinking he could show up like this without anything and just ask for the job. _Fuck it_, he thought, he had to give it a chance. So he started thinking up some lies about his former jobs, practicing his speech, as if being interrogated.

After ten minutes in silence (besides the quiet punk music coming from the loudspeakers) he saw a cover of a zombie comic and narrowed his eyes at it. Remembering a scene from some zombie movie he turned around and looked at the counter. He smirked at his stupid imagination but still walked forward to the counter, leaning over it to check if someone was sitting behind it.

And there he sat - the owner - with big headphones covering his ears, leaning – relaxed - against the backside of the counter, comic in his lap, sidekick on the floor next to him, while his foot rocked to the rhythm of the music.

Frank raised his eyebrows and looked around the store once more. He could have just walked in here, taken a few comics and left without anyone ever noticing. Frank cleared his throat, but got no reaction. He shrugged and leaned forward again, his upper body almost lying on top of the counter, feet off the floor, when he stretched his arm and reached down, tapping the head of the man on the floor. Shortly the image of the owner jumping up, hand clutched to his heart while cursing Frank for scaring the shit out of him like that, blew through his mind and he closed his eyes a second in frustration with himself. He could just have walked around the counter instead, right?

But nothing like that happened. The kid on the floor tilted his head back and stared up at Frank, who was still hanging on the counter, looking nervously down at him.

"OH, HI!"

Frank jumped slightly at the loud voice disrupting the silent atmosphere of the store and when he saw the young man with the weird glasses put a finger to his mouth to shush himself, obviously remembering he had headphones on, a grin formed on the corner of his lips. He slid back down the counter, standing on the floor in front of it instead. The boy scrambled to his feet, putting the headphones on the desk between them and scratching his nose, smiling at Frank. "Sorry, didn't hear you." Then his eyes widened and he leaned slightly forward. "Whoa, shit dude, what happened to your face?"

Frank blinked momentarily, having forgotten all about _that_. "Oh, uh… nothing. Just a…"

"Uhuh. Right, see, your jedi-powers are not working on me whatsoever. I'm immune alright? But I get your drift and let it slip. Not my business. Gotta respect your double life, right?"

"Uhm… Yeah, well, sorry for interrupting you, but there was no one else around, so I searched for someone and… well, found you down there." Frank hurried to change the subject back to the originally one after all.

The owner narrowed his eyes at Frank, then looked around his empty shop, frowning. "Peter?"

Frank knew he wasn't mad but probably just called for his employee. He put his hands in his pockets, when the boy told him to wait a second and watched him round the counter and look into every row. "Peter?"

Then he turned around to Frank, looking at him for a moment, as if to ask him where his employee had gone and Frank shrugged innocently back.

"I can't believe it!" The man exclaimed and walked back to the counter, leaning over it just like Frank before, but not needing to almost climb it just to reach a phone under the desk because he was tall enough. "Unbelievable!" he said again, while dialing a number and shaking his head. He eyed Frank suddenly, as if just realizing that the customer actually might want something of him seeing as how he was still standing there patiently, looking around out of courtesy so he didn't have to watch him deal with 'Peter'.

"Oh, sorry… can I help you with something?" Frank turned his head and raised his eyebrows, realizing he was being spoken to and straightened up. "Yes! I'm… You have a Help Wanted sign out there and I-…" Frank was cut off by the boy, his thumb still pointing over his shoulder to the sign, when the guy pointed a finger at him and narrowed his eyes. "You got the job, you're better than a watchdog and definitely better than-… PETER!" The man suddenly turned away from Frank and shouted down the phone; Peter had obviously answered his cell.

Frank scratched the back of his head, turning his hand in a subtle movement for something else to do than pointing at a sign nobody was looking at anyway.

He didn't get too stoked in the comment of him getting the job and being compared to a dog. It was probably the guy's way to talk and Frank wished he hadn't been joking about something like that.

In a matter of seconds the man stopped talking to Peter down the phone, telling him to get his ass back to the store immediately and that he 'better bring some fucking coffee' or he would cut his wages.

"Honestly, he just went to the coffee shop without telling me. I mean, yeah, he was going to get us something to drink and I'd die without my daily dose, but that's not the point. I could have been robbed by some fourteen year old kids in green tights or something!"

Frank couldn't help but smirk at the thought and bit back a comment about Peter probably having told him anyway and the man just didn't hear him, sitting hidden behind the counter with his earphones on. He loved how this guy seemed to be able to let him forget about all his misery with just his relaxed and funny personality.

"Anyway," the man waved it off and cleaned his glasses in his shirt, sighing and putting them back on his nose, while smiling at Frank again. "You're here for the job?" Frank nodded, smiling back, while feeling the nervousness return in his stomach. The owner held out his hand for Frank and smiled some more.

"Great, dude, I'm Mikey!"


	2. Chapter 2: I Believe in Miracles

**Disclaimer**: chapter-title stolen from _the ramones_

**Warnings**: bad Adam.

**Beta**: the very patient _xxliar_ from _fandomination_, thank you very much

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**Chapter 02 – I Believe In Miracles**

"Quinn!" Frank jogged down the hallway and slammed his hand against his friend's door when he passed it on his way to his own apartment. He was in a hurry to get inside - the urge to use a bathroom much needed after hours of concentrating on cleaning up parts of his life.

When he finally stood by the toilet, he could hear Quinn enter and close his front door while calling his name.

"Gimme a sec!" Frank called back and found himself grinning goofily, when he glanced in the mirror on his way out a minute later.

A second later Quinn was struggling to hold up Frank, giving up and taking a step back to let himself fall on the bed with Frank on top. "Unff… So. You look happy," Quinn stated, crossing his arms behind his head and watching Frank, who was straddling his lower stomach and telling him about the Comic Store as a boy would tell him about all of his Christmas gifts. Just with a lot more swearwords in between, but still with the same enthusiasm and delight.

"That sounds almost too good to be true, man." He grinned at Frank, who finally let himself fall on the bed next to his friend, stopping pressing all air out of Quinn's young lungs.

"Yeah… I got two weeks and then he'll decide if he's gonna keep me."

"Okay. I'll come visit you in three then." Frank giggled silently, feeling ridiculously overjoyed at the thought of his first day of work the next day.

After a moment's silence and hesitation, Quinn finally opened his mouth again. "You're aware that's too easy, right?"

Of course he was fucking aware of this. Of course he knew this was too good to be true. What prostitute could go out on the street and get a proper job without any references or obstacles whatsoever? This was no fairytale and he fucking knew it. He knew something could come along and destroy his new life, but until then he would fucking use and enjoy this luck.

"Yeah, that thought has crossed my mind. What do you think I am? Five?"

"Sometimes…"

"Fuck off," Frank mumbled and kept studying his ceiling. After some moments of silence, Quinn spoke up again in a low voice. "What about Adam?"

Frank let out a sigh, feeling a nervous sensation form in the pit of his stomach at the thought of having to talk to him. He was almost cursing Quinn for ruining his mood, but chose to go with a mumbled "Tomorrow" instead. After all Quinn was right.

Better get it over with.

"When are you working?" Frank asked Quinn, changing the subject and turning his head to the side to face his blond-haired friend, yawning.

"In a few hours. I'm actually just in the middle of a gig. Wanna join and surprise the audience with your presence?"

"Hell yeah." Frank pushed himself off the bed and got his guitar out of his closet, following Quinn to his apartment for some hardcore rocking out time.

A couple of hours later, Frank lay in his bed and looked up at the light spot on the ceiling, moving ever so slowly - the light coming from somewhere outside, the streets, the moon.

He was tired enough, but still, he couldn't fall asleep. He was simply thinking of too much shit. Worrying too much. Couldn't be healthy. Like thinking about how he could screw this all up badly – more so, what would happen _if_ he screwed up badly? Thinking about how he would not manage to get left alone by Adam; thinking about if he ever could be proud when he looked back at his life (_well, too late for that, don't you think?_), if he would actually live a life. He didn't know what to do; didn't know what to do, if he should be without a job again. What then? What should he do? What _would_ he do?

But he needed to piss. At least he knew what to do in the next minutes. Frank rolled onto his side instead, frowning when he saw he had forgotten to close the curtains completely.

Maybe it was also the neighbours keeping him up so late, making _love_, or whatever they'd call their sadomasochistic games over there, waking the whole goddamn house. When he had moved in and heard it the first time, he had also heard a kid cry, immediately assuming it came from one and the same apartment and knocking the hell out of their door. Hell, he thought he was helping a tortured kid. In the end he was being accused of theft and other stupid and unrelated, illogical things by the pair, trying to explain to the cops that he actually only lived next door and that yes, he really fucking had heard a kid. Quinn, whom Frank at that time had only known from seeing him around the same places he worked at at night, had been his saviour that night. Emerging from his apartment on the same floor having heard the turbulence, he suddenly showed his acting talent and made the police somehow believe that they were definitely no fucking dirty rentboys, _no, oh god, no_, as they were accused of by the weird pair, but actually innocent citizens, who were merely trying to help their fellow neighbours and… and… and… Frank still needed to piss.

As soon as he was back in bed, he let out a deep breath and closed his eyes, knowing what really caused him to lay awake all night.

Frank breathed out heavily as soon as he had closed the door behind of him. He wasted no second and ran up the stairs, away from the apartment, the base, Adam.

He had gone to Adam first thing in the morning of the day his job would start and made sure they had an agreement. Surprisingly enough, he had managed to put his What-if fears to the back of his mind and hadn't backed down until Adam had reluctantly agreed to let him go, having no other choice, owing him big time. Just for saving his life, so yes, big time.

But no matter what he had done to him, _for_ him, saved his life, it really didn't matter. Adam was not a good person and he would find a way to get him back, to not let go. One way or the other, Frank thought, one way or the other Adam would be a pain in the ass. But until then he would do anything to enjoy this new temporary freedom, this normality. His hope was strong and he would simply try and lean back for a moment, breathe and relax.

And read a hell of a lot comics.

Of course he had to keep his eyes open.

As Frank was running up the stairs, he could hear the door open and shut close behind him again. He calmly looked over his shoulder, while keeping his pace and looked back forward again when he saw who of Adam's goons was following him. Frank almost jumped the last three steps and hurried out of the building, looking back at a smugly grinning Jeph again before letting the front door fall shut behind him.

"Fuck," he cursed under his breath, while the cool breeze of the morning was welcoming him back to the loud and busy streets.

While getting away from the building and his follower, he fumbled in his pockets for cigarettes and found none, much to his aggravation. He frowned when a guy in a suit with shades, cigarette dangling from one side of his mouth and a portfolio under his arm bumped into him while passing, obviously in a hurry and talking business on his cell. Just as he was about to call some insults in the black haired guy's direction, who didn't even take notice of him, his eyes caught sight of Brian on the other side of the street, talking to some bikers. Immediately a smile crept to his lips and with one last glance over his shoulder on Jeph, he turned his attention back to Brian. _Look at me, look at me, look at me_, he willed Brian to turn his head _just for a fucking second, damn it,_ while waiting by the street for his chance to run over, the lot of cars making it seemingly impossible. And finally Brian said his goodbyes to the guys and was about to turn away, when he saw Frank running over the street towards him.

Brian. Jesus. Where to begin? Frank sometimes still kept feeling butterflies when he met him, but that didn't mean anything serious. Not anymore.

They had met years ago, when Frank had just started with a few jobs for Adam, nothing too serious, when he one night met Brian in a club after his first 'customer'. Frank had been ready to spend all his just earned money on alcohol, when suddenly this tattooed guy sat on the bar chair next to him. All Frank remembered from that night was that they were on the same length and had shared quite a few drinks, resulting in Frank having woken up in an apartment he didn't know, on a couch that wasn't his.

As their friendship developed they started to also spend more intimate time together. After a few times though, they knew they were not destined to be a couple. They simply did not work in bed. Well, yeah. No. That was an understatement. And as _those_ feelings for each other weren't that strong, they decided not to start working on that. After the few awkward attempts they shared in bed, they laughed over it, both being so mature and called it quits, staying friends.

And friends they were, although there was a time in their friendship when it almost all broke apart. The time when Brian found out what Frank was doing for a living and tried to get him out. Both had been terribly stubborn until Brian one day had seen Frank with Jeph on the street.

It turned out that Brian was actually a narcotics agent (Frank had needed some convincing for this at first) and knowing Jeph very well, having been after him for some time now. Once he had managed to get him, but after coming out of prison, Jeph had been more careful with doing and dealing his drugs. More careful referring to Jeph working for Adam and Adam watching over him in return.

And that was where Brian had seen his chance. Frank.

They started to fight, when Brian wanted Frank to be something like his spy and Frank declined ("Who am I? Donnie fuckin Brasco?"), telling him he couldn't do it, fearing for his life, goddamn it, if someone ever should find out. He had never expected to be drawn into something like this so deeply. Frank didn't even smile at the naïve expectations from his past, whenever he thought back.

And with Brian and Jeph, Frank found himself in a situation that even Frank thought was ridiculous, stuff you would expect to find in movies, stories, not in real life. But Frank didn't even find the time to laugh at this ridiculousness once. Not for almost catching a bullet one night, just because he automatically pushed Adam out of the line of fire, when Brian's chase on Jeph went a bit out of control. (Jeph plus guns and Brian's new partner eager-to-shoot Petesomething was a bad combination.)

At least, him having saved Adam's life that night made it so easy for Frank to say goodbye to his boss (The term 'pimp' didn't really appeal to Frank) and hope for them to leave him be. Hope.

He should just have let that motherfucker die. How could it be an instinct to protect the life of a person who made his life a living hell?

"Hey, Frank!" Brian called with a smile when Frank was approaching him. As soon as Frank had reached him, he turned around, looking over his shoulder to the other side of the street, just managing to catch Jeph's back disappearing around a corner. He smirked, feeling more than relieved and looked back at Brian, finally greeting him too.

Brian nodded with a knowing smirk to behind Frank in the direction of the vanished Jeph. "Frank Iero, are you just using me to get rid of annoying scum?" Brian grinned at him and Frank laughed, shrugging..

"You know. Some people find you intimidating."

Brian rolled his eyes, "Let's just keep it this way then."

He grinned and gave Frank a hug, both keeping it a second longer than normal and Frank took a deep breath, before they broke apart again.

Brian fished a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and offered Frank one, which he gladly accepted.

After having had a few breathes of smoke and shared some more jokes and comfortable small talk, Frank glanced one more time over his shoulder, but couldn't make out anyone familiar.

"What was that for?" Brian asked after having narrowed his eyes and studied Frank's face for a moment. Frank shrugged and shook his head, watching the ashes fly down to the dirty sidewalk.

"Nothing really… It's over, that was nothing."

"Mhm." Not really sounding convinced though, Brian asked Frank if he wanted a ride and watched him curiously, when he suddenly smiled up at the narcotic agent.

"Yeah," Frank nodded, the smile growing wider with every second, their eyes locked. Brian just silently counted the seconds of when he'd find out what the cheery face was all about.

"Alright," Brian flipped the butt of his cigarette on the street before walking to his bike, Frank close behind, taking one last drag of his cigarette too.

"Where are we going?" Brian asked, putting on a helmet and watching Frank get the other.

"Just a few blocks down there. To the Comic Store near our coffee shop," with that Frank grinned up at Brian proudly, "I got a job, man."

Mikey looked up from his sidekick, when he heard the loud motor noise of a bike stopping somewhere near. His eyes landed on a dark blue motorbike parked in front of his store. He watched Frank jump down from it, giving the driver a hug and packing a helmet away, before obviously talking with the guy about the shop. Mikey stood up straight and watched them gesticulate a bit, guessing what they were talking about and when the guy took off his helmet, running a hand through his flattened hair, Mikey leaned a bit forward on the counter. He saw the man talking with Frank about his facial wounds and then they said their goodbyes, both obviously being comfortable around each other. Mikey leaned back again, returning his attention to the sidekick and hearing Frank enter the store.

"Morning!"

"Hey, dude!" Mikey send him a smile and glanced at the bike disappearing on the street. Couldn't Frank have other friends than the local narcotic agent, who had almost busted Mikey for getting high on the night his store had its big opening?

"Let's show you around then, shall we?" Mikey walked around the counter and when he was about to lay a hand on Frank's shoulder to walk to the back, he suddenly swirled around and almost ran to where he had placed his sidekick, grabbing it hurriedly. "Love you, too, baby!" he murmured and typed away – probably the same words - and Frank smirked at his – hopefully – new boss.

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**A/N:** the brian-background part is kind of a filler, and I don't like fillers, but I don't know how to put filler-stuff into the story without it becoming a filler. so, if you have tips that could help me in the future, you're more than welcome to tell me.


	3. Chapter 3: Nine to Five World

**Beta:** xxtokidokixx

**Disclaimer:** chapter title from _The Ramones_; and credits to me 'neighbour' for the LARP idea;

**A/N:** last update = august 2009 … jesus.

not sure if I find this too boring though. tell me what you think – if you're disappointed, had expected something else, anything…

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**Chapter 3 – Nine to Five World**

Mikey looked back and forth between the cardboard boxes filling the small room in the back. He looked as if it was news to him that they almost reached the ceiling.

"Hm," he said, and "Hmm" laced with a bit more interest the second time.

"That's your storeroom," Frank stated, standing next to Mikey, taking in the view and looking as cool as he could manage to.

When they had entered the room, Mikey had asked him if he had any trouble with his back and when Frank declined, Mikey asked if he wanted to start sorting out all the comics and merchandise hiding in the boxes. Now Mikey looked as if he felt bad about the job he had set him to do though. "Maybe you can choose the music one day a week," he offered.

Frank smiled, as his eyes slid over the boxes on the floor and on the shelves filled to the brim with comics and merchandise. He didn't think it was that bad. Plus, he hadn't been asked to show any recommendations by his former employers from previous job experiences (hilarious). If Mikey would forget about that, he would certainly too.

"It's cool," he said reassuringly, to which Mikey turned his head at Frank.

"Dude." He sounded thankful. "You're hereby promoted to the coffee-boy. I pick it up myself usually, but, you know, … you get used to luxury too fast than what is good for you. You know the shop down the road? That's where you get 'em. "

Frank couldn't help but think of Brian, while they walked back out front, approaching the counter. "Yeah, the one down next block, you mean?"

He received no answer and found Mikey seemingly deep in thought. Frank followed his gaze and found the other employee messing around with some books.

Peter had just dropped some of the pile he was balancing to a shelf. He turned around, looked down at the few books on the floor and finally managed to drop the rest too - not without the usual comical frantic movements in his attempt to stop the mess from happening.

Mikey let out a laugh and Frank wondered why he would keep someone who caused so much trouble. Mikey turned his attention to him again, when Peter had decided to go three times instead of carrying all the comics at once.

Frank felt the nervousness in his stomach grow suddenly but tried to put his usually well reasoned paranoia to the back of his mind. He looked at the other in what he hoped was a presentable manner but his mask fell immediately when Mikey started grinning. "At ease, sweetheart!" Mikey yelled with a deep voice, adding laughter to his quote, making Frank relax his shoulders with an amused eye roll.

Mikey then waved his hand dismissively, his eyes drawn to the street outside the window that was partly covered in ads and posters and drawings, telling people what amazing stuff he had inside and that they should dedicate their lives to the comic universe. "Ah, my brother would never believe me, if I told him someone thinks I'm an authority figure."

"What does your brother do?" Frank asked out of politeness.

Mikey looked back at him a bit too intensely for Frank's liking, but that was probably just the way he was, Frank thought.

"Do you know the Umbrella Academy?"

"No?"

That made Mikey smile again. "He tries to become famous. Anyway, when can you start? I can't remember what we agreed on."

"Well _now_, if you want me to! I'm all yours." Frank felt excitement rushing through his body once more.

"_That's_ right, and I finally have someone who'll do what I tell him, instead of ignoring me and destroying my interior." Mikey didn't even flinch when they heard a crash coming from the store. "So, don't join his side. Okay. Uhm, so officially the boxes, _and_ occasional coffee-supplier - you actually gained power and points on your first day already. Yeah. Any questions?"

"Just one," Frank nodded, and looked seriously at Mikey, who looked intrigued back. "What weapons do we use against those fourteen year old kids in green tights you mentioned yesterday?"

The sides of Mikey's mouth twitched almost unnoticeable. "I phone my brother."

"And he's that much of a threat?"

Mikey nodded determined, "When I tell him to show up in drag."

Frank couldn't help but smirk. "I need his number then."

"Make sure to put it under a shortcut." Mikey held a warning finger in the air. "We can't risk losing time, once they strike."

"The six is free."

"He'll love that." Mikey smiled, crossing his arms in front of his chest satisfied. Frank giggled and shook his head at their conversation.

Mikey grinned back at him, before waving it off. "Nah, he doesn't do drag anymore."

Frank raised his eyebrows curiously, still smirking. "Anymore?"

"That was in school."

"Wow. That kid had balls."

"Or mental issues, whatever."

Frank grinned at Mikey, who suddenly held out a cheap breakfast cereal action figure of Batman towards him. Frank eyed it skeptically.

"I'm not gonna make you swear an oath on him now. That'd be nerdy." Mikey rolled his eyes jokingly, "Welcome gift," he added before holding the figure out again for Frank to take. Who dared to this time. "Well then – welcome to paradise!"

A few days in paradise later, Frank and Mikey both poked their heads out from the backroom, when they heard Peter yell and curse in the store outside.

"You broke 'eet!"

"No, I swear, I didn't even touch it!" They saw a young man try to defend himself to the employee with the weird french accent, who was holding up a pen far too close to his face.

Frank glanced at Mikey, who watched with amusement and – of course - a tad worry for his costumer. Frank considered being worried too, as he recognized the man as the young cop Brian was partnered up with.

"Shouldn't we -" Frank began, when Mikey laughed as Peter spilled some ink on his sleeve and cursed even more.

"He's LARPing," he suddenly said and Frank looked from Mikey to Peter, narrowing his eyes.

"Uh," Frank said.

"Role playing," Mikey continued, and when he noticed Frank's confusion, he explained, "No, I mean, like, _now_. All the time - he's role playing _all the time_. I think it's awesome."

Frank looked at Mikey again, who really seemed mesmerized by the – now apparent – "show" Peter was giving in the store. That could be the reason why Mikey would keep him, no matter what Peter would do.

"And what is he playing then?" Frank asked, focusing his eyes on Peter again.

"Chief Inspector Clouseau."

"Oh. Wow."

"Yeah. He even took French lessons, so he could develop his accent."

"Huh," Frank nodded impressed, "But why is he doing it all the time?"

"Don't know," Mikey shrugged, "I can't really ask him. He's never fallen out of his role for a second – at least not when I'm near. He's probably just practicing for a game or something. Maybe he's just weird. But I think he's brilliant."

Before Frank could ask about the story how Peter managed to get the job at all, Mikey finally went to rush to the costumer's help. "Hello, 's there a problem here?" he asked friendly, looking from the costumer to Peter and the ink stain on the floor and on a part of Peter's sleeve.

"'e broke mon pointing pen!"

"I didn't! I wasn't even-"

"Ah, that's alright-" Mikey tried to sooth the obviously worked up man, when Peter cut him short.

"No! Eet is not _alright_, it's-"

Mikey lay a hand on Peter's shoulder, turning him around while telling him he could pick himself a new pen in the back store.

"Eet better be a good one, eet is 'ard to replace an excellent pointing pen, you know?" Peter mumbled on his way, and Mikey turned to the other. "Awesome. Now, how can I help you," he asked with a smile and then managed to assure Brian's partner of his innocence when he offered to buy Peter a new pen.

Two hours later, Mikey was standing by the door with a pretty dark-haired girl, and Frank was watching the scene with curiosity and amusement; and with Peter, whose real name was Patrick. It took Frank ten minutes to find out, and now Peter had taken over the back store for him, saying he did not want to deal with anymore 'imbecile costumers' today.

When Alicia showed up, however, Peter joined Frank by the counter, mumbling something about a coffee break. Introductions were made, and Frank didn't know whether to be surprised or not that Mikey had such a girlfriend.

"Where is she going?" Frank asked his fellow employee after having watched Mikey kiss his girlfriend goodbye for the umpteenth time.

Peter sighed dramatically and shook his head seemingly annoyed. "Shust visiting a friend of 'ers for a few days."

Frank raised his eyebrows and smirked, turning to look at Peter. That was all? Peter looked over to the lovers again, letting out another sigh. "And 'er side_uh_kick apparently died yesterday."

"Ah." Now Frank understood the trouble. He turned his attention back to his boss and the black-haired girl, who finally walked out the store, both waving dramatically to the other until she disappeared out of sight.

"Qui," Peter sneered, rolling his eyes.

"Get back to work!" Mikey called out, as he returned and caught them watching him intently. "I'm not paying you to have daydreams about my girlfriend. Or me!" he added with a smile, and shushed his grinning employees away with some hand movements. Frank heard Peter mumble a "fools" before he returned to the bookkeeping by the counter.

"I love it."

"Aha. You sure?" Quinn asked dryly and sent Frank an annoyed look while he zipped up his jeans, getting ready for the night.

"Sorry." Frank turned on his side and watched his friend get dressed. He was exhausted and ready to fall asleep, as soon as he was alone. He had no energy left to provoke a fight now.

"Hm." Quinn suddenly turned his head, looking back at a tired Frank. "Jeph has been asking me about you."

Frank raised his head. "I thought so. Adam sent him after me, when I left."

Quinn looked through his closet, scrutinizing different shirts. "Well, no surprise, is it?"

"Don't know." They were probably keeping an eye on him, waiting for him to fuck it up, to need money, anything and they'd be there, welcome him back with a smile. And no escape card this time.

"You'll probably end up dead one way or the other."

"Probably, but this way my dead ass is mine and not Adam's."

Quinn looked over at Frank, before glancing down and examining the shirt in his hands. "You have to get up in the morning," he said and missed Frank's amused face. "Aw fuck, I forgot to wash it...," Quinn mumbled, scratching at the stain on his shirt with a fingernail.

"Like that matters anyway," Frank snorted, to which Quinn tossed the shirt soundlessly to the floor and went for his closet again.

Frank raised an eyebrow. "What."

"Nothing, fucking nothing." Still so quiet, Quinn had seemed to swallow up all his obvious anger.

"Come on, man. Let it out," Frank joked, the smirk vanishing from his features, when he caught a glimpse of Quinn's disapproving frown.

"Fuck you. And get that look off your face, man, really," he snapped and Frank stood up.

"What? What's your fucking problem?"

"You are." Eyes narrowing, he looked at him like it was the most logical and obvious thing ever. "_You're_ my fucking problem." Quinn started again, his voice not rising one bit. "You're _everyone's_ fucking problem. And – _no_." Frank closed his mouth again. "Don't act, as if you've forgotten already. It's sickening."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Quinn snorted, and shook his head, eyebrows raised irritatingly, as he turned his back on Frank, flinging a shirt back into the closet.

"What, that's it now? You're going crazy on me here and not telling me why?"

"'Cause you fucking know," he said quietly, with a bored voice.

"Jesus Christ! How should I know what's going on? I'm not out on the streets anymore, catching up with the latest chatter!"

"You know what?" Quinn had turned around, pointing at Frank with another t-shirt. "You get your brain all fucked up in that store, huh? Whatever. But guess what. You're one down. Adam doesn't want less money. Do you get it now? God, you're a fucking –" he bit back the noun and looked down at his shirt, as if he just remembered it was there. He unfolded it and took a look at it, holding it up.

Frank reached out and tore it away from his grip.

The glared at each other for a few seconds, before Quinn rolled his eyes and turned away once more. "Okay."

"Do you need some money?"

"Man. Come. _On_!" Quinn faced him angrily.

"What… _Jesus_… Just 'cause I got a normal job you-"

"God, how long's that supposed to be the news?" Quinn mumbled, loud enough for Frank to understand.

"Yeah…" Frank grabbed his jacket, and slammed the door behind him.

Half an hour had he stood near the fucking phone booth in the dark street, having tried Brian's number every five minutes with no reply.

Frank just wanted to sink to the ground and calm down, but instead he left the booth with the sick yellow light after another unsuccessful try and walked through the streets back home. He passed the comic store on his way and felt both joy and guilt overcome him, as he looked through the window into the dark room; anger when he thought back to Quinn and his stupid accusations. It wasn't his problem anymore.


	4. Chapter 4: Future Pays A Visit

**Beta:** xxtokidokixx

**A/N:** hello, gerard! finally. he had a short, very short, appearance in chapter two, but I don't think anyone noticed/I did a poor job making it obvious enough.  
plus, you can also now find 'update news' on my profile.

* * *

**Chapter 4 – Future Pays A Visit**

Monday came and Mikey had survived the weekend without his girlfriend. Frank without Brian.

While Mikey was talking on the phone, Frank mindlessly drew invisible doodles on the counter with his finger tip. His coffee break had just started, and as he munched away on one of the sandwiches Alicia had brought by this morning, he wondered what Mikey would decide on by the end of the week. Would he be able to stay? He thought it looked good, but wasn't willing to expect anything. Practical habit. But. This uncertainty; he could feel it in his gut.

He was also still pissed at Quinn, because… yeah – it seemed too good to be true. Where was the catch? He was pissed at Quinn for putting these thoughts in his mind. There was no catch. He had to work more and still got less money than him. And now Quinn had to work double shift because Adam thought this was the way to let out his anger over Frank's departure. Fuck him. Frank couldn't even help his friend out.

By the time he had eaten his second sandwich, Frank's mood was in the basement. He left the store to light himself a cigarette. A couple of minutes and yet another smoke later, Mikey appeared outside, joining him.

They stood in silence for a moment. Frank thought the other looked as if he was either trying to find something sensible to say or was very interested in Frank's shoes.

"I wasn't sure about the name at first," Mikey suddenly said and Frank glanced up to follow his gaze. His eyes landed on the letters above the store.

"Did you come up with that?" Frank interrupted, and Mikey put his hands in his pockets, admiring his store.

"Yeah. The resemblance, you know? It fits."

Frank inhaled the nicotine deeply, and found it to be the wrong moment. He managed to keep back a coughing fit though and carefully studied Mikey's face. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah," Mikey nodded down the streets, as he pushed his glasses up his nose, "There's streetwalkers around the corners here."

Frank's hands started to sweat and, feeling horror-struck but trying to look nonchalant, he thought back to the countless of times he had been in the store. He couldn't remember for his life if he had looked suspicious or if Mikey had sent him a knowing look, whatever that might be. He settled with the more calming version – that Mikey had no clue about who he was- _had been - _because otherwise he wouldn't stand here, _working_ here.

When Mikey started laughing and telling Frank about some ridiculous fight he once witnessed just outside his store, Frank found it helped a little on that decision. He didn't seem to have been caught. _On what_? Frank thought with a shake of his head, getting annoyed with himself.

"Coffee break's over now. If you don't follow me inside, I'll have to fire you," Mikey told him a moment later, already on his way towards the door.

Frank nodded, and flipped his cigarette down the kerb. "You can't fire me, I'm not working here," he reminded him cheekily. Then he looked up, and at the smug grin of Mikey, Frank froze in his movements. _Wait…_

"Hurry up. I'm gonna show you how to order books and stuff from my-" Mikey stood by the door, holding it up, and not showing his amusement about Frank's mouth hanging open in the slightest, when Frank shook his head, waving his hand, trying to make Mikey stop _and fast forward_.

"What?"

Frank opened his mouth again, not sure how to formulate the question without having it sound like he was going to hit the other any second because of his impatience.

"Frank?"

"What the—" Frank stopped himself from yelling at the boy in front of him.

"It's—You have the job, if that's what you're trying to ask. Like, I really need some help and you're cool, so—"

"Dude, seriously?" Frank took a breath, trying to register if his heart was still beating.

"What? Yeah! You still want it, right?" Mikey asked, suddenly looking as if he didn't know if he had missed something.

"Well—fuck, yeah!" Suddenly it was as if all these many negative, tense feelings that have been rummaging through his body and mind were blown away and Frank couldn't stop smiling.

Mikey laughed and seemed relieved at this reaction and waved for Frank to start moving. Frank knew he was grinning like an idiot as he followed Mikey to the counter and computer. He thought he should somehow tell him that he was thankful for the chance – his probation wasn't even over yet – and started blurting out his thoughts. "I totally appreciate you giving me the job already and all, 'cause I really need the money—" _Dude_. "Ah, like I should tell you that now. Ok." _Stop the friggin babbling. _"Thanks, man."

"Sure. You've done fine here and we get on. Besides that, you've been in my store every week before now. Dedication." Mikey had started grinning slightly as he continued, "You pick the interesting stuff from the shelves. Not that I have uninteresting things," he mumbled, as his eyes were fixed in the screen in front of them. "Alright, so that's settled. Tomorrow… you're gonna start officially. Hey, awesome. Tell me that you're happy, Frank."

Frank grinned at this and shook his head. "Oh, I'm happy. Comics around me all day and my boss as my stalker. What else could I possibly want?"

"Coffee."

"That." Frank nodded seriously and Mikey furrowed his eyebrows, letting them have a silent moment while thinking of the drug.

Frank felt high the rest of the day. And celebrated with Quinn in the evening, after Mikey had shown him all the secrets on the computer for him to keep the store working. They went to a bar, meeting up with Brian and his – that night – pissed off partner Pete. The boy was sulking in a corner instead of ruining their evening. Frank didn't mention the pen-accident; he was sure Pete hadn't even noticed him in the store.

When Quinn had to leave for work, Pete disappeared too, and Frank stayed with Brian for another two hours.

When Frank woke up the next morning, he thanked himself mentally for not having drank too much last night. He smiled and sighed consented, as he stretched.

Then he opened his eyes.

"Shit! Fuckshit!" he cursed, as he realized where he was (Brian's couch) and what the time was (20 minutes until he needed to be at the store). Now, too late, he found it to be a stupid timing for staying overnight, as he needed more time to get to the store from this point of the city. He ran to the bathroom, splashed some water on his face and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. When his eyes met the mirror, he noticed that his bruises were finally fading.

"Why don't you just relax? It's early, I'm gonna drive you, now get outta here, I need to piss." He suddenly heard Brian's slurred, still sleep filled voice behind him and let his eyes slide away from the view of his skin to watch the other through the mirror.

He was standing in the doorway, yawning sleepily and scratching lazily at the waistband of his boxers as he waited. Finally he stretched and rubbed his neck, while blinking back into the mirror.

"Frank. Piss," he repeated, raising an eyebrow, when Frank didn't get out of the bathroom.

"Oh, right. Right." Frank finally turned and walked outside, checking his clothes' ability to last another day of work.

He borrowed a shirt from Brian.

Ten minutes later, they were sitting in the coffee shop near the Comic store and enjoying their first coffee of the day. Both were looking scruffy due to the lack of time getting ready, and Frank refused to take off his sunglasses, shielding him from any unwanted light - he hoped he would get used to this time of day sooner than later.

"See. Plenty of time left."

Frank smirked at him, before checking his watch. "Five minutes."

"Exactly," Brian nodded, taking another sip and narrowed his eyes to study the board by the counter for something to eat.

Frank watched him unnoticed for a little while, lighting himself a cigarette as he observed the other.

Again he felt his stomach reacting positively to the company, but he knew very well this were only remains of their past exclusiveness. He probably only still kind of loved him, in a way. A deep friendship kind of way. Similar to his and Quinn's, even though it was probably impossible to compare.

"Fuck," Frank suddenly mumbled after another glance at his watch. "Gotta go."

In the early afternoon, Alicia visited them in the store again and Frank greeted her quickly before heading for the back – and another cardboard box waiting for him.

When Frank emerged from the backroom five minutes later again, because he had forgotten his check list, a guy in dark clothes had joined the lovebirds by the counter. His face was hidden behind shades and the shadow of his hoodie which was hanging into his forehead. But he noticed Frank's presence all right, as he raised his head in Frank's direction when he had appeared in the store again.

Mikey was still chatting with Alicia and the stranger, and Frank used the moment of his boss' unawareness and went over to the shelves, hiding (but preparing to pretend to be very busy there). He felt uncomfortable not knowing whether he was being watched or not. Why was he fucking wearing shades inside?

A few minutes later though, he could finally hear them say their goodbyes. Just when Frank had felt it to become too ridiculous to hide. He coolly passed the shelves and walked out in the open store and just managed to see Alicia tug her arm into the strangers, with whom she then walked outside and disappeared around the corner.

Then Mikey caught sight of Frank. "Fuck, I forgot to introduce you! That was my brother Gerard. Ah, whatever, you'll meet him sooner or later."

Frank pictured the two together as good as he could, but saw no resemblance whatsoever. Then he looked back at Mikey with a smirk, remembering something. "Wait a minute. Are you telling me that this was your brother, as in the guy who went to school in drag?"

"Yeah, that's him."

Frank snorted at the thought and Mikey nudged his shoulder. "Dude, it was only once. And in art school. Stop laughing!"

"Sorry," he said, with no effect while Mikey tried to look serious. "You're going to say something to him about it, right? I'm not gonna introduce you then."

And Frank bit his lip, trying to stop grinning like a madman. "No, sorry. I won't say a thing."

When Mikey had glared at him for a second or two, Frank felt the sides of his mouth twitch again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** Edited title stolen from RiD, Turn It Up  
**Beta: **xxtokidokixx, my lucky-luke-beta  
**A/N:** F§$"%&/! no excuses. it's terrible, terrible! so, have this. and feedback is welcome

* * *

**Chapter 05 – ****Felt So Sick Today, Got Cured By Your Voice  
****  
**

Quinn was singing quietly under the shower. Frank lay on his bed and, looking at the lovely brick wall that happened to be his friend's view outside the window, thought over his current situation. Even though the change was obviously the right thing and he enjoyed every minute of it, it had brought along other changes that were worrying him when he had time to think. He wouldn't earn as much as he had before, and always had to remind himself that it was worth it.

Of course it was worth it. And he could still afford the apartment. _Big deal._ It wasn't as if he was saving up for anything anyway. He didn't plan on leaving this town or moving to a better quarter.

The job was a good new start, and even though his surroundings, his relationships, kept nagging on the back of his mind, he knew it had been the right choice to make. Mikey seemed happy with his life.

Forcing his mind to leave dark alleys behind, his lips formed into a smile when he thought of Brian. He hoped he'd soon find someone who didn't know about his past, someone he could pretend to be normal with.

"Hey dickhead, don't you need some beauty sleep for tomorrow?" Quinn walked in, tossing the used towel at Frank and walking to his closet. Frank sat up and tossed the towel back, watching the naked Quinn singing again, both having forgotten any past quarrels.

"I stayed at Brian's last night."

"Oh?" Quinn paused his singing, while he pulled some clothing out of the bottom of his closet, struggling a bit with the fabric that obviously was stuck in between the rest.

"Yeah, he…" Frank paused, feeling something inside of him that made him wish he could project these feelings on someone else instead. Someone he actually could— Frank breathed out a laugh at the though.

It had happened before that his mind had jumped to disturbing scenes when he had been with someone who didn't pay him. How normal could this relationship he was imagining to get be?

"Did something happen?" Quinn asked in a sing-song voice, smirking at Frank and wriggling his eyebrows.

"No." Frank watched Quinn slip into some bright jeans and pull a shirt over his head before walking inside the bathroom once more. Frank followed, leaning on the doorframe and watching his friend brushing his teeth.

"Wanna come with me? Have a drink or something," Quinn suggested, when he saw Frank's face.

"No," Frank shook his head, "don't feel like it." _But there's only so much one could do alone…_

"You could always ask Jeph for a good time. He'd probably even pay you." Quinn snorted at the thought.

Frank grabbed the nearest item – a hairbrush – and aimed it at Quinn's head, hitting him perfectly. Quinn cursed and rubbed the back of his head before restyling his hair.

"When are you leaving?" Frank asked impatiently and bored, needing to take care of a fantasy. A quite boring, safe, old fashioned one really.

"You're having a hot date or something? In a minute, man, in a minute," Quinn answered and Frank rolled his eyes at the blond licking his lips seductively at the mirror.

* * *

Frank was drowning his … well, he'd lost count on the exact number, but maybe that was enough explanation for his state. He had found a bottle of something strong back home, and had tried to get himself far gone enough to actually just lie there and let his hand do the rest - which was foolish on all accounts. But as he never was drunk when working, he thought that might make him see the situation in a different light. Well, and besides the psychological treatments he thought he was giving himself, he actually just wanted to get wasted. To not having to be concerned, forget his thoughts about ridiculous theoretical relationships and just get dizzy and happy, and go to sleep.

The whole thing didn't work as planned though – does it ever – as he, at some point, felt ready to go out and find Quinn after all. Maybe he could accompany him through his brakes. Something like that. Frank wasn't too sure anymore what his new plan was and it probably didn't matter much, because he now sat in a bar, without Quinn but with another beer in front of him.

"Dude…" Frank sighed and frowned at the mass of people around him, when another man bumped into him, trying to get something to drink. The place was crowded, some band actually raising the mood of the mass spectacularly. Frank took a look at his watch and decided to get home. He knew he had to change his sleeping habits. He would never tell Quinn about that though. The thought made him grin stupidly, while he was wriggling through the crowd towards the exit.

Ten minutes later Frank was outside and, swaying between parked cars, waiting for his chance to cross the street safely. He blinked and narrowed his eyes, trying to focus on the blurry lights rushing past him. A car honked loudly and Frank felt the wind brush his face, when he stumbled backwards. Fuck.

Then an outstretched arm was waving next to his face and a yellow car stopped in front of Frank a few seconds later. He'd just wait until the fucker was gone and he'd cross the damn street, no matter what. But he was all of a sudden being pushed towards the car door.

"Hey!" Frank exclaimed, slapping the hands away and swaying to the side, holding onto the trunk of the cab.

"Where do you live?"

"Oh man," Frank breathed out annoyed and rubbed his closed eyes angrily. He didn't have any money for a cab and he really just needed to concentrate a bit and would be home in ten minutes, curled up in his bed. That was on the condition that he'd make it over on the other side of the damn street first.

He opened his eyes again, letting his hand fall to his side and looked over. His eyesight was useless at this state; he couldn't concentrate, nor focus on anything than the thought of getting home somehow. And fast.

The person in front of him had started talking. Telling him something, but Frank wasn't listening. He caught the name of Mikey's comic store falling though— Wait… a fucking stalker? Frank tried to control his breathing, tried to cool down, sober up, which was impossible this way, but logical for anyone who'd had enough of the fun.

"…coffee's your friend, might help…"

"Whatthefuckareyoutalkinabout," Frank slurred, and thought it suddenly to be weird that he wasn't nervous of being kidnapped right there. But apparently the other person did not seem like a big threat to his alcohol influenced mind. Had it been Jepha, he would have recognized him by now.

"You're wasted, come on, cab is waiting," The calm voice said, but Frank ignored the dude who was trying to act like a fucking saint. He didn't deign to look at him and let out a breath.

"Fuck off," Frank frowned and pushed himself around the cab, out on the street, when hands grabbed him. He heard another loud honk and tires screeching, and froze. At least in his mind he did, but he knew he was moving, when he felt an arm around his waist, steadying him, and his weight shifted to lean against the stranger.

When he felt a gentle push forward, his feet started walking automatically and suddenly Frank stood on the side walk again. While he took hold of the guy's wrists and slowly freed himself, he turned around, finding the club on the other side of the street now. Oh. Well, perfect. He could make it home now without being hit by a car.

"Where do you live?" Well, he still had to get rid of the pervy boy scout.

Frank let out a sigh and turned his head, scrutinizing a mop of black hair which went in and out of focus, before looking past the man again.

"You should really get a cab, man. I'd drive you, but my-"

"-Yeah, thanks… thanks for the advice, dude, you're really… really helpful," Frank slurred and started to walk pass the man, who's hands quickly reached out, when Frank swayed to the side, but Frank simply held up his hand defensively.

"Fuck off, man, I mean it."

The guy didn't follow him.

Frank fell asleep that night, curled up on his bed, half his face pressed into the shirt from Brian and inhaled the familiar scent until he got dizzy. That moment he thought it to be impossible that he would ever do this with another shirt. Quinn said he had never done it, and Frank thought that he might have been lucky then, having at least one shirt that made him feel a bit like home.

* * *

The next morning, Frank had considered calling in sick, but with his work and his colleagues on his mind he managed to get out of bed.

"Ah shit! Fucking coffee fucking everywhere! Hold on a sec, G…" Mikey placed the phone on the counter, ignoring the chuckling he heard from his brother, while he tried not to burn himself further. He looked around helplessly for a moment, his hands in the air, coffee dripping from his fingers, before he finally decided to go get a cloth or something similarly helpful.

"Frank! Frank!"

"Mikey! What?" Frank called back, appearing from the back room, almost running into his boss.

"Ah, damn, I just spilled coffee everywhere, dude. I need to- could you get the phone, it's my brother, just- tell him, I'll be right back."

"Sure." Frank grinned at Mikey, who was waving his hands around and cursing made his way to the bathroom. Frank went to the counter and grabbed the phone. "Gerard?"

"No, this is Bob."

"Okay, Bob. I thought you were Gerard," Frank answered back, smile evident in his voice when he heard the grumpy voice, while he looked at the mess on the counter.

"I'm not. Who are you?"

"'m Frank. Mikey just told me to entertain his brother, but apparently-"

"Yeah, yeah, he's taking a piss."

"Uhm. Yeah, okay."

"Whatever. You work for Mikey?"

"Yeah," Frank answered, ready to ask Bob something similar, when he heard the sighing voice again.

"I really don't know, why I have to play phone-missus, when they could just call each other back, fuckheads," Bob seemingly mumbled to himself and Frank smirked, when he heard some murmuring on the other end. Apparently the brother was coming back.

"Mikes? Sorry, I just-"

"-Uh, no. No, this is Frank. Mikey is still cleaning up." Frank frowned, leaned forwards and craning his neck as he was trying to see what took Mikey so long.

"Oh. Okay. …Frank." There was an awkward pause, when neither of them knew what to say, both probably able to silently agree that indeed, this situation wasn't really necessary.

"So. Uh," Frank heard Gerard start and he bit his lip, waiting for some more to come, when he heard Gerard breath out a laugh, "Man, this is…"

Frank grinned and decided to go the polite, professional way – couldn't harm. "Hey, do you actually need something? Something I can help you with while Mikey is-"

"No, it's just family stuff actually, so you can't really- …unless you would like to dress up like me and accompany my brother to our parents tomorrow. I really should get that work done, so…"

"Oh. Well, what would I get in return?"

"See, I can't really say, 'cause I don't know you. What would you like?"

"Oh man, I could write you a list for that favor."

"Hey, my parents aren't that bad…"

"No, but it's time consuming. I'd have to study your habits and all, you know. I heard lipstick is an alright choice?" Frank smirked, waiting for the reaction.

"Yeah, but nothing too slutty, you know? Has to match with the rest of the outfit. Mikey could pick one for you."

A reaction that turned out to please him. Frank chuckled. "And here I was thinking you weren't into that anymore."

"You know- It was _one_ day. One. Day! And apparently he keeps telling strangers that I went to school in drag. Besides, it wasn't so bad."

"Well, you can't blame him, it's a good story." Frank shifted on his legs, watching Mikey walk into the store again, paper towels in hands and approaching the counter. By now he had hoped for him to take a bit longer.

Mikey sighed, as he looked at the brown liquid all over the counter, dripping down on the floor. "What do you wanna do – clean up or keep talking to my brother?"

"Ah, he's back." Frank heard Gerard say, and Frank held a hand over the mouthpiece.

"If I clean up, will you _not_ ask your brother what we've been talking about just now?"

Mikey looked up from the counter and narrowed his eyes at Frank, who was biting back any smirk. "Gimme. That. Phone."

"You know, I could clean _and_ talk to your brother. And get you a new coffee." Frank slowly walked backwards, hearing Gerard's muffled chuckle. He brought the phone up to his ear, when Mikey tossed the towels on the counter and rounded the same threateningly.

"Hey, Gerard? It was nice talking to you. Mikey will probably put me in a cardboard box now, so—"

"I'll keep my mouth shut. And coffee is his friend, 'might help to keep you out of those boxes."

Frank didn't have time to wonder at the familiarity of the words, but held up a hand to Mikey, signalizing him, he'd surrender. "I'll get him some. See you."

"Accept your fate, Frank." Frank could hear the smile in Gerard's voice, before finally handing over the phone to Mikey, who had started on some pantomime. It seemed to be about either different punishments or unicorns.


	6. Chapter 6 Sometimes I Feel So Low

**Disclaimer:** title stolen from an awesome song by _Japan_

**A/N:** thanks for your comments on the last chapter!  
gerard's in the next chapter again, and from then on he'll be in about every one till the bitter end.  
and thanks to _TheChadam_ who called my fic inspirejuice and gave me the whip, and to _HeadToPaper_ (both from dA) who inspired me, but refused to help me write this. I'll get you both!

* * *

**Chapter 6**** – Sometimes I Feel So Low**

"Slow the fuck down, man!" Jeph laughed from behind, hurrying through a busy night street to catch up to a worked up Frank.

"Fuck off!" was the answer he received.

"'Fraaank," Jeph sang, jumping to the side just in time to avoid a collision with a group of drunken young boys. He jogged a few steps until he was close enough behind to grab him, should he really try to escape.

"Fuck off, Jeph," Frank warned, still rushing through the crowds filling the sidewalks in front of the more or less shady clubs. He bit his teeth together when he heard Jeph chuckle next to him.

"Oh, come on," and with those words, Frank was being pushed up against a wall; the grip just hard enough to keep him in place. A few girls moved away.

"Jeph, you fuck!" But Jeph withstood the shove he received and ignored Frank's wish of not being in his company, and instead tilted his head, amused at the sight he'd been given.

"Frank, that you?"

Frank sighed in anger, and let his eyes slide over the figures that surrounded them. He wished for a power failure, just to make them come alive and go home, instead of indulging in these fake adventures. _Come on, Jeph, why can't you be a fairy?_ _Grant me a fucking wish._ The night went on, they all functioned, but he got nowhere to run. His thoughts went back to the bathroom of a club down the street, ten minutes ago.

_"I haven't seen you around lately."_

And then offers were proposed, and excuses and money followed. Money.

_"You want the fucking money?"_

Of course he wanted the fucking money. And it was such an easy job.

_A slap; his temple hit the cold tiles on the wall. _

Such an easy job.

"Whom did you piss off?" Jeph asked, studying the bruise and the dried blood with mild fascination. Frank frowned at the other's expression, and tried to push him away once more before he realized that his body wasn't going to offer him any more energy tonight.

"A fucking client!"

"A client? Whoa, hey," Jeph began to laugh, "Did I miss your return?"

_"Stop acting precious."_

Another shove and Jeph's grip on Frank's arms tightened. "Okay, alright," he chuckled. "Why the fuck didn't you call me?" he asked friendly, and licked his lips.

Frank's eyes narrowed. "'Cause I don't wanna fucking call you, Howard, you dick."

With a grin, Jeph took a step closer; the tip of his nose touched Frank's cheek gently; he inhaled. "Are you back?" he almost whispered, and Frank felt that his muscles had tensed up, preventing him from moving into the wall behind him to be free.

"Jepha, you're being a fucking freak," he stated, remembering to take a breath.

_"Listen, pretty boy," A punch to his face left him seeing stars for a __moment. _

Jeph grinned and chuckled against his face, when they both heard footsteps stopping next to them.

"Look who's out strolling." At the familiar voice, Jeph immediately let go of Frank, raising his hands in surrender and chuckling in a hoarse voice, while he averted his eyes from Brian's stare.

Frank felt the pressure on his chest disappearing for a second, before he looked the other way, automatically hiding his face from the cop. A movement that was not missed by Brian who grabbed his friend's chin with his fingers, turning his face towards him.

_Frank smeared the back of his hand over his mouth, doing little to stop the blood from his nose filling it more._

Frank shook his head, trying to radiate enough annoyance for Brian to understand he didn't want the attention. When that didn't help, he sent him a warning look, but Brian's eyes were fixed on Jeph, and his fist was already gripping on to his collar.

"And you're still here?" the cop asked with a controlled low voice, when Frank gripped his wrist.

"Dude, not him."

Brian glanced at Frank, studying his eyes for a moment before looking back at a grinning Jeph, who did nothing to free himself from the grip. Brian shoved him away and let go of his jacket with a frown, and in the movement of the sway, Jeph took a step forward, intruding the cop's personal space.

"Wasn't me," he smirked.

"Back off, Howard." It was Brian's time to ignore his stare and in Frank they found an attentively observer.

"Pissed you got nothing on me?"

"Oh, I have something."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, one of your buyers."

As Brian's smirk grew, Jeph's faded, and he took a step back.

After a pause, Brian raised his eyebrows. "You can fuck off now, I don't plan on spending the rest of the night with you."

"Like being in control, Schechter?" Jeph smirked, and turned around after winking to Frank.

Brian shook his head at Frank.

"It's Jeph." Frank shrugged, but made sure to see Jeph leave.

Together they walked a few blocks, with Brian unsuccessfully trying to get some information out of Frank, who really just wanted to get home and dissolve under his blanket. Therefore he was relieved when Brian received a message as they reached his motorcycle.

"Ah, shit," Brian cursed, when he checked his phone. He put the cell back and rummaged for something in his pockets. "I'm sorry, but I gotta go. Pete needs me… You need a ride someplace too?"

Frank shook his head, waving for him to go, "Nah, you go. I'm alright."

"You sure, I could—"

"I'm fucking alright," Frank grinned.

_The money in his fist._

_

* * *

_

At six in the morning, Quinn was sitting on Frank's bed, knees bent up to his chest, fingers twirled hard into his blond hair, and trying to stop angry tears to embarrass him even further. Frank sat next to him with an arm around his shoulder, and stroking his cheek soothingly; exhaustion clear on both postures. Bad night. Bad customer.

Frank wasn't sure if it was good to drop the act of carelessness as soon as you were at home, hiding. It might get to you more, and maybe, if you just ignored it, it wouldn't be a problem.

But this night it was a problem for Quinn, and when he finally had calmed down enough to fall asleep, Frank wrapped himself around him, enjoying the closeness and giving Quinn an imagined feeling of protection with his arm around him.

* * *

Mikey looked up when the bell by the door announced someone entering the store. And Frank walked in, shoulders drawn up tensely, hands in his pockets. He nodded shortly towards Mikey, who followed him silently with his eyes, trying to figure out what was different.

When Frank put his shades on the desk, and avoided eye contact and a full view to his face, Mikey closed his mouth. Frank instantly got himself busy by the computer. He checked their mails, while trying to hide his fresh bruises, but just making them more obvious that way. Was the boy ever without them?

"The delivery came in today?" he finally asked, and Mikey glanced at the boxes in the corner.

When Frank had sat down with one between two aisles in the store, Mikey joined him and casually checked a few of the wrapped comics, before laying them back on the floor.

"Moshpit? Or something?" he asked, and thought for a moment that Frank would ignore him, when the other finally made eye contact.

"Yeah." Frank wished he had his sunglasses back on. _And now I want three more wishes, Jepha._

They didn't speak much the rest of the day either and when Frank came home to his apartment later, Quinn was already out. Frank sat an hour on the floor against the wall, trying not to break something. He ended up calling Brian, who didn't have to do much to talk him into staying with him for the night.

The next unavoidable interrogation soon ended, as Frank didn't give Brian any reason for his miserable state. It was enough if he had to deal with it in his mind, he didn't need the comments of someone else additionally messing it up further. He knew he was an idiot; he didn't need Brian to tell him that too.

And when Brian went to sleep, Frank nicked alcohol from his cupboard, and drank himself to sleep on the couch in the living room. He didn't need someone next to him, he didn't need Brian for any kind of affection, didn't need anybody else for it; he didn't care about anyone, that night on the couch.

* * *

When he woke up in the middle of the night, someone had left messages on his phone. Stumbling through the darkness to the nearest window, Frank opened it to get fresh air, while listening to the voice mails. All from Jeph, most of them containing dirty talk and drunken ramblings. But there was one message that made him call back. As the phone rang, Frank tiptoed to the bathroom, locking himself in, and hoping he wouldn't wake his host.

"Yesh," Jeph answered, and Frank wrapped himself in a towel, and lay on the floor.

"Got your message. You gonna say anything?"

"Who's there?"

"Jeph," Frank frowned, not wanting to drag this into a long conversation. He wanted to settle this, he needed to sleep.

"How—that's me, you can't be me, fucker, who—" Frank could hear the slur in his speech.

"Parallel universe."

"Awesome," Jeph laughed.

"Jepha, it's me, you dick. Got your message."

"Which one?" Frank could hear him grin.

"Are you gonna say anything to him?" He wished he could just start over again, rewind, and not let any of this happen. Fuck three more wishes, this was it. He felt disgusted, not because of the job, but because of this conversation. As if he was still there. Still the little prostitute, in someone's debt - someone who controlled him, so he'd stay in his cage, and pay for it too.

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Jeph."

"I like when you say my name, say it again."

Frank rubbed his face in the towel, longing for the couch. "Man, I can't-"

"I'm not gonna say anything. Not this time. If you wanna do it again though… I might be interested in a deal. You know Adam will find out, unless…"

"Unless?"

"Just call me next time."

"There'll be no next time." If he hadn't been so damn tired, his voice would have sounded more certain. He felt weak, and wanted the control back he had achieved to build up over the last couple of days.

"Where are you?"

"Not at home, so don't—"

"I wasn't!" Jeph chuckled at the other end.

"Man, I'm going back to sleep now, and I have your word, yeah?"

"My word."

"Howard."

"Yeah! Yeah, you got it, don't worry. That's 'cause I love you so fucking much, Frankie. You know that, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know," Frank's eyes were closed, and when he realized he was going to fall asleep any second, he forced himself off the ground with a sigh.

"Don't sound too happy about it," Jeph yawned on the other end.

"Well, you gotta think about yourself." Frank got up, and listened at the door for some signs of life on the other side.

"I do."

"Unrequited love and all that. Can destroy a man's heart."

"Ah, I know you love me too, Frank. Now get some sleep, you don't wanna be late for work tomorrow, do you?"

"Fuck off." No more wishes; he didn't need any wishes. He wouldn't do it again.

And finally he was back on the couch. He wrapped himself into the blanket, smelled Brian's scent everywhere and dreamed a little before he fell back asleep.


End file.
